


Cozy

by Shaymed



Series: O.C.tober Flash Fiction [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: Part 1 of the O.C.tober challenge by colorfiend. Yes, it's supposed to be a drawing challenge. But who cares? A flash fiction series is awesome!Docra, my priest in World of Warcraft, and also a character in A Lesson in Patience is featured in this story.





	Cozy

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on:
> 
> Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Shaymed  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Shayscreativenonsense/  
> Tumblr: http://shalaena.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/Shalaena

The water dripped haphazardly from the pipe at the ceiling, each drop plopping down onto more pipes and creating a sort of creepy music that contained no rhyme or rhythm—just chaotic noise. It was soothing, nonetheless. She looked across the room at me, her eyelids lowered and a teacup paused before her purple lips. She was scrutinizing me. Calculating her words carefully. Then she took the sip of tea and set the cup quietly on the saucer. Her face remained impassive and apathetic.  
“Why are you interested?” she asked, her voice monotone.  
“Because that’s my job, Miss…”  
“Just Docra.”  
Her gaze flit to my hands, where I wrote that in my notebook. She settled in, pulling a knitted blanket from the back of the couch. It was such a dark purple, that without the black of the furniture and her dress for comparisson, I might’ve guessed it to be black. She lifted her cup, tucked her legs beneath her and held the lip to her mouth.  
“Comfy?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.  
“Cozy,” she replied and sipped her tea. “I don’t leave my house much. But on the day you’re asking about, I went to lunch with Kel’ori Nightheart.”  
“And you saw what happened?” I asked, jotting down every word.  
“I heard the screams, yes. I didn’t entirely care, but Kel’ori wanted to go see what the commotion was. She dragged me from our table outside the restaurant and down into an alley.”  
I knew this much of the story. A commotion in an alley. At least thirty witnesses. But did any of them see anything? Or did they only just hear the screams and run to maybe catch a glimpse of the events transpiring? Did this blood elf see what happened?  
“What did you find there?” I asked.  
One of her delicate shoulders raised up. “A lot of looky-loos, I suspect. A boy looking very shook up.”  
“What did he look like?”  
“Young. Black hair. Green eyes. Dirty. He looked maybe like a pirate. I’m sure you already have his name. You might talk to him next.” Her glowing green eyes bobbed along with the end of my pen.  
She was right. I did know who the boy was. I knew who all of them were. Their names; faces; hobbies. I even knew where I could find each and every one of them. She didn’t need to know that. Or the fact that I knew she was withholding her last name. It’s okay to reject one’s own surname. No need to ask why she did so.  
“Will your friend, Miss Nightheart, give me the same story?” I asked, closing my notebook.  
“Probably not. She’ll give you some extravagant tale, no doubt. She likes to stretch the truth of everything.” Docra set her cup on the table and stood. She wrapped the blanket around herself and seemingly floated to the door. “If you have anymore questions in the future…”  
“I doubt you’ll have more answers for me. Unless you’re already hiding something?” I stood before her, hoping maybe something would shake loose and put some emotion on that face.  
“What would be the point in hiding something?” She twisted the antique brass knob. “It would only bring you back. Have a nice day, detective. Or don’t.” Her cool gaze locked onto mine as I stepped outside. “Either way, it doesn’t actually matter.”  
She shut me out in the gathering gloom. I stood outside her small black shack of a house, wedged between—and under—two tall buildings. It looked that much smaller. A black cat mrowed at me from the gnarled branch of a dead tree in front of an open window near the low roof.  
I lifted my collar as the wind howled across the mouth of the alley.  
One down, twenty-nine to go.


End file.
